


Bucky Meets Deadpool

by TilTheEndOfTheLinePal



Category: Captain America (Movies), Deadpool - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Bucky as a bunny, Bunny Boy, Clubbing, Deadpool is a dick, Dog Tags, Dogs, Drugs, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Feels, Handcuffs, Hydra (Marvel), Kissing, M/M, Physical Therapy, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Rated for Deadpool's Language, Rehabilitation, Sarcasm, Sex Club, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Swearing, Therapy Dog, illegal drugs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-11
Updated: 2014-12-13
Packaged: 2018-03-01 01:03:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2753762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TilTheEndOfTheLinePal/pseuds/TilTheEndOfTheLinePal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>((Post Captain America: The Winter Soldier)) On the run from HYDRA, The Winter Soldier takes one night to relax at a strip club. Getting hopelessly drunk, Bucky falls victim to the wiles of a couple of Deadpool's henchwomen and meets Deadpool himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Katzchen (Sprocketgasmask)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sprocketgasmask/gifts).



> Written for my best girl, Katzchen, who is the biggest Deadpool fan I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. Love you, doll. Hope you like this story. 
> 
> \--Your Bucky Bear 
> 
> Not terribly familiar with Deadpool, but I did my best to capture his essence. Enjoy! Comments are very much appreciated and will be promptly responded to.

Bucky Meets Deadpool  
by TilTheEndOfTheLinePal

The Winter Soldier was no ordinary man. He was a super soldier, could speak and write 6 different languages, had 70 years' worth of tactical training, and knew everything about every sniper rifle in existence. He was the world's top assassin and, quite possibly, the best assassin of all time. He was a World War II veteran, a HYDRA Asset (or so he *was*), and a KGB-trained killer. 

At the end of the day, however, as exceptional as Sergeant Winter was, he wasn't terribly unlike other men. Currently, Winter sat in a booth in a dark corner of a gentleman's club. More specifically, he was at Cat Walk on Veterans Parkway in Columbus, Georgia. Winter was exhausted; he had been running and hiding from HYDRA for almost a month. 

After having soundlessly checked on Steve Rogers in the hospital multiple times and, quietly assuring that he was going to be okay, Winter took off, fleeing Washington, D.C. He had no idea where he was going or what was going to happen next. Tonight, however... Tonight Winter resolved to just enjoy himself for once. 

Very much a tactile individual, Winter fussed with the sleeves of his long-sleeved button-up shirt before running his normal hand along the three thick metal chains hanging off the side of his dark blue jeans. Pressing his shoulder blades back against the worn cushion of the booth, he felt marginally better assuring himself that his .45 was still tucked in the back of his jeans, in the small of his back. 

Satisfied with his weapons check for the moment, Winter focused on a scantily-clad woman dancing around a pole on the center stage. Shaking his head a little, the soldier realized he *needed* to get drunk. Or high. Or both, hopefully. He made a silent mental note to try to find a Ketamine dealer before the night was over. 

Noticing a cocktail waitress approaching, Winter hid his metal hand under the table, pressing it against the waist of his dark blue jeans. The soldier made absolutely no effort to hide the fact that he was checking her out. He raised an eyebrow momentarily, fully noting the waitresses' thigh-high leggings with the little red bows, the tight blood red corset, the red ribbons in her hair... 

The waitress asked a question. She received no answer in response. 

Clearing her throat a little too loudly, she repeated herself, calling over the loud techno music so characteristic of the Cat Walk. 

"What's your poison?" 

It was extremely odd for Winter to meet eyes with anyone, but he did with this waitress. Strangely. The soldier opened his mouth to say *something*, but he was utterly caught up in those false eyelashes, those impossibly blue eyes that no-fucking-way could be the eyes of a woman. No, they were the eyes of a wolf. 

In turn, the cocktail waitress rolled her eyes a little. "Okay, hoss, you gunna order or...." 

"Vodka," Winter suddenly blurted out. "But, I need an unopened bottle. Bring me the bottle. No shot glass. Make sure the bottle is sealed, alright?" The soldier's characteristic Brooklyn drawl was a stark contrast to the waitress' Georgian accent. Winter slid a 100-dollar bill across the table. 

The cocktail waitress had no qualms taking the 100-dollar bill and holding it up to a light to check its authenticity. With a naughty little smirk, she said, "Uh huh. Big spender, huh? You got it. Be right back." 

Sergeant Winter swallowed hard. Saliva literally pooled in his mouth as he watched the cocktail waitress walk away. Wiping his mouth with the back of his normal hand, the soldier furiously tried to remember the last time he got some. He frustratingly couldn't recall the last time he had been intimate with anyone or had even kissed anyone. 

The cocktail waitress returned with a bottle of Ciroc vodka, sealed and with no shot glass, per the customer's request. Indeed, she did not return with any change, having given herself a generous tip. 

Without really thinking things through, Winter produced a sharp pocket knife and cut the seal on the bottle of vodka before unscrewing the cap and drinking heavily straight from the bottle itself. In addition to really not remembering the last time he got lucky, Winter wasn't entirely sure of when the last time he drank, either. As the alcohol burned his throat, the soldier briefly closed his eyes and leaned his head back against his seat. 

It wasn't a terribly busy night at the Cat Walk. Seemingly bored, the cocktail waitress studied Winter for a moment, thinking it rather barbaric to drink straight from the bottle, but whatever... 

"You're not from around here, are you?" she asked, compulsively picking up the foil seal from the vodka bottle to throw away later. The waitress couldn't help but notice Winter's thick black eye make-up. 'Jayzuz,' she silently thought. 'Takes a real man, I guess, to wear make-up like that.'

Ignoring the question, Winter paused, taking another drink of vodka before blatantly asking, "How much do you charge for a lap dance?" 

The waitress laughed out loud, but couldn't suppress a blush. "Oh, you couldn't afford me, hoss." 

"Try me," Winter shot back, his eyes suddenly dark. 

"I don't even know your name," she teased coyly. 

"I'll give you fifty bucks just to sit next to me." *That* came out a little more desperate and lonely than the soldier intended. 

Highly amused, the waitress returned with, "Hey, I'm on the clock. Make it a 100 and then we'll talk." 

Winter reached into his jeans pocket and produced another 100-dollar bill. Grinning mischievously, the cocktail waitress smoothly took a seat next to the soldier, purposefully pressing herself against him, hip to hip and thigh to thigh. The cash was promptly tucked away against her left breast. 

Slouching in his seat, Winter wrapped his normal arm around the waitress' waist. He used his metal hand to grasp the overpriced vodka and took another swig. Licking his bottom lip, Winter tried to play it cool by innocently asking, "What's your name?" 

"What do you want it to be?" the waitress teased. When the soldier rolled his eyes at her, she added, "You can call me 'Kat'. And, you are...?" 

That was most definitely a loaded question, asking the soldier for his name. 

"'Bucky', I guess." The alcohol had rapidly affected the soldier, who stupidly drank on an empty stomach, but, really, he figured he was safe and didn't have anything to lose. She was just a cocktail waitress in some random club, he thought. 

"You 'guess'?" Kat laughed out loud again, taking a lock of the soldier's long hair between her thumb and forefinger before tucking the hair behind Bucky's ear. 

Kat's kind gesture made the soldier shudder. He hadn't been touched like *that* in god knows when... Embarrassed, Bucky uttered a fake cough and looked away, trying to make it appear as though he was just looking at the pole dancer again. He wasn't. Not by a long shot. 

Kat's pretty face lit up with an ear-to-ear smile as she placed one warm hand upon Bucky's right thigh, under the table. In turn, Bucky must have turned 7 shades of red, he was blushing so furiously. 

"Hey, I'm over here," she said awfully kindly, placing the fingertips of her other hand on the soldier's jawline before carefully turning his face back to her. "What do you want, Buck? Huh?" 

Bucky's gorgeous blue eyes toggled slightly as he studied Kat's eyes, in turn. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice deeper than normal. He was, in fact, hopelessly lost.

"Well..." Kat began, "You don't just come in here - by yourself - drop 200 dollars, drink my best vodka, and then leave without getting something... You're at a titty bar, remember? You still want that lap dance, hoss?" 

"N-No," Bucky stammered, literally trembling all of a sudden. "No, I don't want a lap dance. I changed my mind." 

Maybe it was out of pity or maybe it was because Bucky was so deliciously innocent, but Kat's normal stronger-than-whisky-sweeter-than-tea attitude went out the door. Gradually closing her eyes, Kat leaned forward and just barely brushed her lips against Bucky's. The soldier's alcohol-soaked lips were oddly soft and his body was so goddamn warm and he even smelled good and... 

Strangely blushing and abnormally embarrassed, Kat leaned back again and said gently, "I'm sorry, I..." 

Bucky shut the waitress up with a sudden kiss, which started out aggressive, but curiously turned profoundly gentle and loving. He kissed her as if he had never, ever kissed anyone before in his entire life. Given what his taxed brain had gone through, however, The Winter Soldier might as well have been kissing a girl for the first time ever. Those horrifically painful electrical wipes HYDRA had done to him... 

Kat's eyes rolled back and fluttered closed, the very whites of her eyes shining so brightly against that soul-stealing coal black eyeliner of hers. The waitress didn't bother to suppress a deep moan from the back of her throat. Maybe it was the best kiss of her life, maybe it wasn't. She'd never tell him either way. A southern girl didn't kiss and tell. 

Bucky lengthened and deepened the kiss, his heart stuttering almost painfully, but he didn't care. He didn't fucking care about anything in the world at that very moment. All of the horrors he had gone through, the abject torture he had endured for seventy long years, the painful realizations that he almost killed his supposed best friend, 'Captain America'... It just didn't fucking matter. 

Breathless, Bucky just barely managed to break the impossibly long kiss, and mumbled against Kat's lips, "This. This is what I want.... This is all I want tonight, I swear." 

"Whoa - holy Jesus!" a third voice abruptly startled both Bucky and Kat. "*Somebody's* gettin' some tonight! Shit! What a kiss!" 

His jaw dropping open in shock at the sudden interruption, Bucky met eyes with another cocktail waitress. The KGB/HYDRA trained assassin involuntarily did a rapid assessment of the new spectator. Gorgeous curves, a beautiful reddish tint to her dark skin, a striking turquoise corset, and... holy fucking hell ... those amazing boobs. 

Kat couldn't help but erupt into a fit of nervous giggles. She just did that when she was nervous. Giggled up a storm. "Hey, Lizie," Kat said casually, but it took every fiber of her being to not slap the shit out of her best friend for interrupting such a devastating kiss. 

"I'm bored," Lizie admitted truthfully. "It's a Tuesday night. I mean, really.... Who's this?" she asked, placing one hand on her hip. 

In turn, Bucky took a very long drink of the vodka - still straight from the bottle - in a desperate attempt to calm his shot nerves. 

"This is Bucky," Kat said, her gaze vacillating between the soldier and her fellow cocktail waitress. Then, addressing the soldier, fully noting just how *much* vodka he had consumed, Kat asked, "You got any more of those 100-dollar bills?" 

Bucky matched Kat's smirk perfectly. "Yeah, but you'll have to get it out of my pocket for me..." 

Whether their laugh at his joke was authentic or not, Bucky still devilishly enjoyed the attention he was getting. He nodded towards the empty space on his left in the booth, silently indicating to Lizie to join them. In turn, Lizie wasn't stupid; she sat down next to the soldier and did, in fact, reach into Bucky's front jean pocket to produce another 100. 

It was extremely rare for The Winter Soldier to laugh, but he actually laughed for once, throwing his head back. He instantly liked Kat and Lizie on so many levels. He honestly felt like the luckiest man alive for once. 

Having tucked away the cash just like Kat had, Lizie struck up a conversation. "So, what do you do, Bucky?" Lizie, too, noted the strange black make-up on the soldier's eyes. It was impossible not to notice. 

More than buzzed on vodka, both of Bucky's arms were wrapped around the cocktail waitresses' waists, one arm on each girl. "If I told you," he answered, "I'd have to kill you." That *might* have been somewhat true. Kind of. 

"Oh, come on," Lizie pressed. "You don't look like the killing type..."

"I don't know," Kat interrupted with a flirtatious smile, snuggling close to Bucky's overly-heated body. "He seems kinda dangerous to me, Lizie..." 

"Aw, no, he's just a Bucky Bear..." Lizie said rather seductively, running one hand under Bucky's shirt and tank top to feel his abdominal muscles. "You're just a soft teddy bear, aren't you, Bucky?" 

Bucky's sweet smile faded as hopelessly dirty thoughts coursed violently through his mind. Absolutely struck speechless, he sighed heavily and leaned his head far back, staring up at the ceiling. Was any of this actually real? Could it even be remotely fucking possible to have two smokin' hot dames fawning over him? This was the stuff most men fantasized about while jerking off. Bucky was no exception. 

"*I* think we should find a quieter spot, don't you, Kat?" Lizie said with a little wink, meeting Kat's eyes. 

As if they had done the same routine before, both cocktail waitresses rose from the booth and helped Bucky to his feet. Most definitely, The Winter Soldier was highly agreeable. At this point, he would follow Kat and Lizie to the fucking ends of the earth. Abandoning what little was left of the vodka, Bucky stumbled as he walked, but Lizie and Kat quickly came to his aid. The waitresses draped Bucky's arms - one normal and one metal - over their shoulders and directed him to a quiet little room in the back of the Cat Walk. 

The room wasn't terribly small, but it was sparse, having a lone couch and a coffee table. A dim lamp rested on an end table, having a red gauzy scarf draped over the lampshade, giving the entire room a soothing reddish glow. Of course the cocktail waitresses were dangerously gorgeous, but, in this characteristic light, they looked even more amazing. 

"Who do you like better, Buck? Me or Lizie?" Kat joked, slowly unbuttoning Bucky's shirt. 

Bucky stood in the middle of the room, though he noticeably swayed. He kept his hands to himself. Even though he was beyond drunk, he was still a shy gentleman at heart. His unblinking gaze focused solely on Kat's hands. As Kat unbuttoned Bucky's shirt, Lizie grinned as she fingered Bucky's jean chains. 

"I... I have to choose?" Bucky whispered distantly, taking the question seriously. 

Kat threw her head back and laughed at his response, then turned to gently pull off Bucky's shirt, though he still had on a black tank top. She unceremoniously dropped the shirt onto the couch. 

"Look at those biceps!" Lizie unapologetically uttered. "Damn, boy... Work out much?" 

The faintest of grins graced the corner of Bucky's mouth, but he chose not to respond to that question. Though the soldier didn't really notice, Kat and Lizie exchanged glances. 

"Bucky?" Lizie asked, the tone in her voice dramatically shifting to a serious nature. 

Confused at the voice shift, Bucky turned his face to look right at the beautiful, busty cocktail waitress. 

"Kneel," said Lizie, eerily quiet. 

Eyebrows knitted in confusion, Bucky seriously wondered if he actually heard what he had heard. "What?" he whispered, his voice faraway. 

"One more chance, Buck," Lizie continued, dead serious. "On your knees." 

Somewhat startled, Bucky took a small step back. "Wait... what?" 

After Lizie gave Kat an approving nod, Kat apologetically stated, "I'm sorry, Buck," before she produced a humming taser gun and firmly pressed the electrode right against the side of The Winter Soldier's neck. 

Bucky tried to cry out in surprise, but could only violently shudder at the sudden, unexpected electric shock. His body twitching violently, he did fall, his knees slamming onto the laminate floor which remarkably felt like concrete. 

It took a good long moment for Bucky to stop convulsing from the utter shock of the amped-up taser. Most certainly, the shock was much more severe than any regular taser on the market or used by police forces. His voice shaking, Bucky cried out, "What the f-fuck? Oh, my fucking god..." 

"Poor, sweet Bucky," Lizie cooed, running the fingers of her right hand through Bucky's thick, shoulder-length brown hair, as Kat worked fast to press an impossibly complex electrode against The Winter Soldier's metallic bionic arm before restraining his wrists tightly behind Bucky's back with a set of handcuffs. Bucky was powerless to stop Kat or even remotely resist. 

Kat lifted the back of Bucky's black tank top and pulled the .45 out of his jeans. She cocked the gun and aimed it at the soldier's head with a steady hand. 

In wild disbelief, Bucky - still on his knees, his wrists tightly bound behind his back - stared up at both women, truly not understanding what was going on at all. 

Bucky opened his mouth to protest, to say something... anything... but was cut off by another voice. This was a male voice, absolutely unfamiliar to Bucky, and remotely sounded muffled, as if by fabric. 

The new voice dripped with sarcasm. "Ooooh, girl, do you do your own make-up? Mmm... Sexy..." 

Bucky's gaze shifted dramatically to the new figure, who had been waiting in the shadows the entire time. He had witnessed everything. The man was clad entirely in red and black. He wore a mask with huge black circles over where the eyes would be, but there were no... eyes... to look at? He had two katana blades strapped to his back. The figure was standing with one hip cocked out, weight shifted one leg as he held one gloved hand on his hip, the other hand flippantly poised to make himself look "gay." 

The Winter Soldier instantly hated him. Whoever he was. 

"But, seriously," the masked man continued in an overtly and offensively stereotypical homosexual male tone. "Putting on eyeliner for the first time is *such* a chore, darling. You'll get better over time, I'm sure. Don't give up!"

Bucky blinked a few times, in turn, and, confused, he asked, "Are you talking about the make-up I use to conceal my eyes....?" 

"Oh, my gawwwd, girl, yes!" the figure mocked Bucky before patting the soldier on the head like a dog. 

His mind reeling, Bucky sat back on his legs. He took a moment to try to resist against his wrist restraint, but found that he couldn't move his technological arm at all; the electrode had effectively paralyzed his metal arm. His left shoulder had an uncomfortable pins-and-needles sensation. 

Swallowing hard, Bucky couldn't help but ask, "Who are you?"

The figure's voice changed yet again; he shifted to a fake Spanish accent. "My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die." 

"What?!" Bucky breathed, utterly frustrated. Of course The Winter Soldier had never seen the movie, 'The Princess Bride'.

"Oh, hell..." the figure sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. He finally used a normal voice for once. "I'm Deadpool, you fuckin' moron. Haven't you ever heard of me?" 

Bewildered, Bucky shook his head 'no' slightly, long brown hair falling into his handsome face. 

It's not as if anybody could tell that Deadpool was smirking, but Bucky still had a feeling that that was exactly what the figure was doing. The Winter Soldier was inherently used to people respecting him - mostly out of fear and intimidation, of course, but still respecting him. The soldier couldn't recall a time where he was ever mocked or made fun of. It kind of hurt. In a way. 

"Eliza," Deadpool snapped his fingers. "My phone, woman." 

"Yes, sir," Lizie complied, handing her boss his new cell phone. 

"No looking at my passcode," Deadpool muttered sarcastically to Bucky as he unlocked his cell phone. Before Bucky could even react to that odd statement, Deadpool held the phone inches away from Bucky's face. 

Bucky leaned back slightly to better focus on the phone's lit screen. 

Deadpool continued to speak. "Now, the real question is - which one of these guys would you fuck?" The masked figure showed two head shots - one of Captain America and one of a familiar HYDRA agent, Brock Rumlow. 

"What?!" Bucky cried out yet again. "What the..." 

"Oh, come on!" Deadpool interrupted Bucky. "I'm as straight as they come, but I've got quite the gay-dar, okayyyy?" He laughed fairly loudly before explaining himself more fully, "I mean, look at you. The eyeliner, the long hair, the nice body, handsome face... Do I really need to go on? You like to fuck guys, right? So, are you the top or the bottom? I'm willing to bet you're the bottom 'cuz you're so fucking pretty." 

A loud scoff escaped Bucky's lips. He wasn't entirely sure how to respond to that. 

"Mmm..." Deadpool purred, running a gloved hand over Bucky's hair. "If you were in prison, you'd be someone's bitch within 12 hours, I shit you not." 

Bucky lost it. His temper out of control, he ferociously pulled against the handcuffs on his wrists before trying to stand. As Bucky growled loudly through gritted teeth, Deadpool silently commanded his two henchwomen to push the soldier back down. Kat and Lizie complied, pressing down on Bucky's shoulders, preventing him from standing. Given how blatantly drunk Bucky still was, it wasn't hard to subdue him. 

"Down, boy!" Deadpool mocked Bucky again with another hurtful laugh. "Don't make me get a newspaper and bop you on the nose. You're much too pretty for that." Returning his attention back to the cell phone, he showed Bucky the two pictures again. "But, really, you don't know who sent me, do you? You've got quite the bounty on your head, you know that?" 

"Fuck you," Bucky growled quietly, sweating from pulling on his restraint so hard. Of course he knew he was being hunted down. 

"So..." Deadpool continued, but his voice trailed off and he began to play with the cellphone, which began to chirp a happy, lighthearted tune. 

After a long moment, Bucky looked up at Kat and Lizie, but couldn't read their faces. They seemed rather emotionless all of a sudden. Impatient, Bucky spat out, "So, what? So, fucking what?? What's your point goddammit?!" 

"Oh, sorry," Deadpool laughed. "I just love Candy Crush Saga. I'm so on level, like, 122 or something." 

"FUCK YOU!" Bucky shouted at the top of his lungs. Okay, so he didn't really know what 'Candy Crush Saga' was, but The Winter Soldier - in addition to never being mocked - never, ever had to wait on anyone, nor was he ever ignored. 

Deadpool held his hands up. "Okay, okay, don't get your panties in a bunch, man. You're gonna give yourself an aneurism. Geez. So, back to the point... You don't know who sent me. Maybe it was Captain America. Maybe it was HYDRA. Either way, you're fucked. And, I got you, didn't I?" Deadpool laughed devilishly. "It was a little hard to track you down, I'll admit. You're kind of a professional. I mean, I was going to drug you tonight, but then I thought... nah... I'll let some girls play with your dick, show you a good time..." 

Bucky closed his eyes for a short while, earnestly wishing he wasn't blushing as his shoulders fell. 

Bucky knew, just *knew*, that Deadpool was smiling again, under that mask. Deadpool nodded at Lizie, who walked away momentarily. "'Bucky', is it? You're my prize, Bucky, my very pretty little bounty. Only one is gonna win you, but you don't know if it'll be Cap or Brock. Either way, I've decided to make a little extra cash on the side. I'm going to get some information out of you before I turn you in. Nothing personal, Buck... Can I call you 'Buck'?" 

"No..." the soldier growled through gritted teeth. 

"Eliza here has a truth serum, Buck..." Deadpool nodded at Lizie, who was holding a fresh syringe full of a clear liquid. 

"There's no such thing as a truth serum," Bucky stated clearly, eyeing the syringe disdainfully. 

"You suuuuure about that?" Deadpool said rather joyously before Lizie unceremoniously injected the liquid straight into Bucky's carotid artery. 

Bucky winced just a little from the sharpness of the needle, but, ultimately, he didn't feel any different at all. 

After impatiently waiting about a minute, Deadpool commanded suddenly, "Tell me the location of the nearest HYDRA compound." 

Bucky did not hesitate for one second. He blurted out, "About 120 kilometers due north. You can enter the bunker through an old barn or you can enter the west side at the bottom of the hill. My passcode is 57038, but they also use retinal scanners." Immediately after he spoke, Bucky gasped loudly, absolutely shocked that he said all of that. 

Deadpool threw his head back and laughed so hard he made himself breathless. Practically in tears, he managed to say after a while, "Good... Good job, Buck. Nice. Tell me your name." 

Literally unable to stop himself, Bucky stated, "It depends on the situation. I'm Sergeant Winter for HYDRA, The Winter Soldier for the KGB, and Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes for the United States Army." 

Shifting his weight to one leg, Deadpool uncharacteristically became serious. "Do you know who you are?" 

"I... uh..." Bucky didn't hesitate because he was trying to resist the question. He *couldn't* resist the question. It's just that he honestly wasn't sure what to say. "I don't know... I went to the Smithsonian, in Washington, D.C. Apparently, I'm Bucky Barnes. And, Captain America... He recognized me, and I think I know him, but..." Frustrated beyond reason, Bucky's eyes brimmed with tears. His shoulders shaking as he began to sob, Bucky admitted, "I-I just don't understand what's going on..." 

As sarcastic and cruel as Deadpool could definitely be, he did have a shred of sympathy within him at that moment. 

Sighing, Deadpool said solemnly, "Good night, Buck." 

Tears rolling down his face, Bucky looked up into the masked figure's face. "What?" he whispered, deeply depressed. 

Deadpool quickly grasped one of his katana blades and slammed the handle of the blade as hard as he could against Bucky's left temple. Bucky cried out in pain, losing consciousness even before he crumpled over onto the floor, hopelessly knocked out. 

Returning his katana to its holder, Deadpool's lighthearted, sarcastic voice returned. "Come on, girls," he said to Kat and Lizie. "Dinner's on me tonight."


	2. A Few Get-Well Presents For Steve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sure, Deadpool is a dick, but he still has a heart. Kind of. Here are two instances where Deadpool uncharacteristically shows his love for his friend, Steve Rogers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter explains what happened before and after Deadpool captured Bucky and knocked him the fuck out.

Chapter 2:

A Few Get-Well Presents For Steve

By TilTheEndOfTheLinePal

((Author's note: This is what happened before Deadpool captured Bucky and knocked his ass out at the strip club in Columbus, Georgia.))

It was an exceedingly odd friendship between Captain America and Deadpool. Steve Rogers was America's 'Golden Boy,' practically perfect in every way. Cap was a 'red-blooded 'merican', a perfect gentleman who never cussed, who had a heart of gold, and, hell, probably even ironed his skivvies. 

Deadpool, on the other hand... Deadpool was Deadpool. 

Currently, Deadpool was whistling while he strutted down the hallway at the VA Hospital in Washington, D.C. Everyone - from busy nurses to doctors to candy stripers - paused whatever they were doing to simply stare at the anti-hero, mouths collectively dropping open in shock. Deadpool most certainly had a presence, an air about him.

Of course, it helped that Deadpool was holding a humongous bouquet of helium-filled balloons, each balloon an air-filled cock and balls. Yes, Deadpool was bringing a sympathy gift of penis balloons for his oddly-beloved friend, Captain America, who was currently hospitalized for severe injuries suffered from his epic battle with The Winter Soldier. 

Sam Wilson (unrelated to Wade Wilson) had just stepped out for a coffee when Deadpool charged into Steve Rogers' hospital room with a giant, "TA DAAAA, motherfucker!"

Startled, Steve jumped a little as he lay in his hospital bed. Resting his current issue of 'Life' magazine down on his lap, Steve couldn't help but bust out in hysterical laughter, though, really, it did really hurt to laugh. Deadpool had definitely arrived unannounced and, even more definitely, made quite a statement with those awfully offensive balloons. 

"Hey, pal!" Steve exclaimed, his eyes lighting up. "Oh, my god... They let you in here with those things?" 

The masked anti-hero, clad completely in black and red, momentarily looked up at the distasteful bouquet of balloons. "I've got two katana blades strapped to my back," Deadpool countered. "Nobody seemed too concerned about that... But, *these*, my holy friend, *these* motherfuckers here..." Deadpool indicated the balloons. "That's what really frightens people." 

Steve couldn't stop himself from grinning ear to ear and could only imagine the look on Deadpool's face, in turn. 

"Look, though," Wade began, pulling down one balloon and holding it up to his crotch suggestively. "You like guys, right, Steve?" Deadpool threw his head back and laughed before thrusting his hips back and forth to make it seem like he was fucking the air with the balloon. "I can't imagine you'd find a guy with a mouth big enough to suck this off." 

Steve lost it. He laughed so fucking hard he was tempted to call for a nurse to ask for a shot of morphine. "Oh, my god," Cap managed to hiss between laughs, one hand over his belly. "Oh... my god, Wade... Stop. You're killing me... Seriously."

Grinning wickedly beneath his mask, Deadpool released the cock balloon, letting it float back up to meet the group of inflated penises. "Sorry, sorry..." he apologized half-heartedly, but, of course, he wasn't really apologetic. The joke and the balloons were *well* worth it to see Steve all cheered up. Deadpool had, in fact, heard about just how horribly injured Captain America was, how he had come so close to death at the hands of HYDRA's 'Asset'.

Making himself comfortable, Deadpool kicked back in the lounge chair beside Steve's bed and crossed one leg over the other, interlacing his gloved hands behind his head. "Pretty sweet set-up you've got here, Cap," Deadpool conjectured casually. "Got some nurses around here with some sweet ass. I was about to ask if you were gettin' any of that ass, but then I remembered what a flaming faggot you are..."

Steve threw his head back and began a new round of laughter, his eyes lightly tearing up. "Shut up, Wade!" he kidded in return. "You're so mean... I swear..."

"Ah, I know..." Deadpool lightly slapped Steve's bicep. "You're good, man. You're good. You can fuck whoever the fuck you want. I don't give a shit. Just don't talk about it with me, alright?"

Smiling genuinely, Steve began to calm down. "Alright," Cap agreed.

"Promise...?" Deadpool teased.

Captain America smiled at his friend and nodded. He was already getting tired.

Even though Deadpool was quite an ass, he still realized that his friend needed rest. Of course he had come to the hospital to cheer Cap up, but he finally got straight to the point, "What about this Winter Soldier guy?" Wade asked, uncharacteristically seriously.

His blue eyes distant, Cap studied Deadpool for a moment, not entirely sure what to say. "What about him?"

Giving a half-shrug, Deadpool's voice shifted to a more jocular tone again, but he was sort of serious. "You want me to bring him in? Hunt him down?" he offered with a small sweep of his hand.

Captain America thought about the notion of Deadpool finding The Winter Soldier. He really did. Then, logic took over. Shaking his head 'no' slightly, Steve thought out loud, "You wouldn't be able to track him down. He's untraceable. Bucky... Bucky is a KGB, HYDRA-trained assassin. Nobody can get their hands on him. I have no idea where he went. I'm pretty sure he doesn't want to be found and, if Bucky doesn't want to be found, then..." Increasingly more and more sleepy by the second, Steve's voice trailed off.

"I can take him down," Deadpool offered. "Just say the word, man."

"Mm..." Steve gave Wade a half-grin, his eyes closing in utter exhaustion. "I dare you, Wade... I dare you to bring Buck back. I know you can't."

Giving a little nod as he stood, Deadpool countered, "Fuck you, Steve. And, the horse you rode in on."

A gentle lighthearted laugh escaped Cap's lips as he drifted off to sleep. Ensuring that nobody was looking, Deadpool tenderly covered Steve's shoulders with a light blanket.

((Author's note: And this is what happened after Deadpool knocked Bucky out in the strip club and, consequently, dragged his ass all the way back to Washington, D.C., from Columbus, Georgia.))

Having been out of the hospital for almost a week, Steve slowly worked to bring his apartment back to order. He had just unloaded the washing machine, placing his clothes into the dryer, before picking up a few loose scribbled papers off of the coffee table when he heard a knock at the door.

Steve wasn't exactly expecting company, but he wasn't terribly worried. Random Avengers and well-wishers had stopped by his apartment over the past week, bringing casseroles and cards and new sketch pads. Taking in a gentle breath, Steve opened the door, a new smile gracing his handsome face.

There was Deadpool again, in his characteristic black and red suit, katanas still strapped to his back. "Hey," Wade said with a sarcastic little wave. "I brought you a present."

Raising an eyebrow, Steve said, "Is it more penis balloons?"

In response, Deadpool took a small step to the side and suddenly pulled Bucky into view, dragging him by the arm.

"What the *fuck*?!!" Steve *never*, ever cussed, but he did - just this once - and justifiably so, as he took a few steps back, profoundly shocked.

Bucky Barnes stood in the doorway, wearing nothing but black boxers, unlaced black combat boots, and his characteristic black tactical mask. As if that wasn't enough, he was also wearing tall pink bunny ears on his head.

"Waaaaait for it," Deadpool dramatically said, pushing Bucky into the apartment before grabbing the soldier's shoulders and turning him around to show off a fluffy bunny tail on Bucky's ass. "Eh? Eh?" Wade added, pointing to the bunny tail. "What do you think?"

His mouth gaping open, Steve was struck absolutely and positively speechless. He had no fucking clue where to even begin. He could only stare blankly as Deadpool directed Bucky to face forward again. Bucky still had that terribly complex electrode on his metal arm, which effectively disabled his arm, and his wrists were still tightly bound by handcuffs behind his back.

Steve's impossibly wide eyes toggled between Bucky and Deadpool and, remarkably, back to Bucky.

"I'm not gay, I swear," Deadpool broke the intense silence. "But, goddamn, though, I see why you like this guy so much... Mmmph. Look at those muscles. And, fuck, he's got a nice ass..."

Strikingly bewildered, Cap carefully approached Bucky, looking him over in disbelief, taking in the view. "...H-How...?" he stuttered.

"Well, you were right and wrong, Cap," Deadpool explained, hands on his hips as he thought. "You said I couldn't catch this motherfucker, but I did. He was pretty hard to hunt down, though. I'll give you that."

A thought slowly dawned on Captain America. "Wwwwhyyy isn't he saying anything?" Cap asked, noting that Bucky was deathly silent and stared blankly ahead, his eyes rather unfocused.

"Oh, *that*..." Deadpool gave a full belly laugh, tilting his head back. "He's as high as a motherfucking kite, I shit you not! He's riding out the best goddamn high he has *ever* been on!"

Bucky was, in fact, completely high off his ass; Deadpool had very nearly overdosed him, shooting him up heavily with his beloved illicit drug of choice. Bucky stood with his legs shoulder-width apart, staring into nothing and pretty much thinking nothing. He made absolutely no attempt to fight against his wrist restraint.

Pointing at The Winter Soldier, Deadpool honestly blurted out, "Did you know how much of a motherfucking dope addict this guy is? He shoots himself up with Ketamine, like, as often as he fucking can... He's so, so *fucked* up..."

Steve heard what his friend was saying, but it was all so much to take in all of a sudden, so much to comprehend. Still unable to blink - quite possibly even forgetting *how* to blink - Steve slowly unclasped Bucky's tactical mask with one trembling hand and let it fall to the floor. Yep... Yep. There was Bucky alright. Cap placed two fingers under Bucky's chin and tilted his head back to look down into Bucky's starry, glassy blue eyes.

As Deadpool uttered a loud, disgusted, "UGH! JESUS!", Steve leaned down slightly and gave Bucky a lengthy, tender, and beautifully loving kiss. In turn, Bucky's eyes fluttered closed as he was just barely able to return Steve's kiss, though he did moan weakly in the back of his throat.

Finally pulling back again, Steve pulled Bucky forward and embraced him warmly. Bucky rested his head on Steve's shoulder and buried his face against his neck. Steve held the back of Bucky's head before starting to stroke his boyfriend's long hair lovingly.

Though nobody could see him do it, Deadpool severely rolled his eyes as he uttered a loud scoff of disgust. "Really, Steve?! Really...? Just - do me a favor, okay? Don't let me see the major boner stickin' out from your pants... Motherfuckin' hell..."

Finally looking over at his masked friend again, Steve grinned. "Sorry, Wade. Couldn't help myself... Besides, *you're* the one who dressed Buck up as a sexy bunny rabbit. What did you expect?"

Deadpool held up one gloved finger and opened his mouth to protest, but found that Steve did have a point there. "Duly motherfuckin' noted, bitch," Wade said in return. "Alright, well, I'm outta here. I'll let you two blow each other and fuck and all like the fairy faggots you are... Oh, and, by the way, Bucky doesn't really know who he is. Just so you know. But... you knew that already, right?"

Steve kissed the top of Bucky's bare shoulder. "Yeah..." he nodded. "Yeah, I kinda knew that. I'll figure it all out."

"Uh huh..." Deadpool added with a flippant, irritated wave as he made his way back to the apartment's front door.

Still holding onto his handsome boyfriend, Steve called after Deadpool, "Hey, Wade?"

Reluctantly, Deadpool paused and turned slightly, doing all he could not to look at the couple directly. "What, you flamin' homo bastard?"

Steve gave Deadpool a half-grin. "Thanks, pal. This means everything to me."

"Whatever," Wade returned before leaving the apartment, closing the door behind him. Deadpool did pause, though, outside the door, letting Steve's gratitude sink in. After a few warm, fuzzy moments, Deadpool shook his head and muttered, "Fuck this shit. I'm gonna go find me a big-tittied bitch and fuck like a real man."


	3. Bucky's Rehabilitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Profoundly guilty about his actions as The Winter Soldier, Bucky spends some time in a rehabilitation clinic. Deadpool takes it upon himself to speed up Bucky's recovery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notably *not* as funny as Chapter 2, but I kind of thought this was an important story to get out. Jesus, is Deadpool a dick, though. 
> 
> *Bucky Bear waves at his beloved Kat and gives her a friendly wink.* Love you, doll.

Chapter 3:

"Bucky's Rehabilitation" 

by TilTheEndOfTheLinePal

Bucky Barnes sat at the edge of the deep end of a swimming pool at a rehabilitation clinic in Washington, D.C., his legs dangling in the cool water. Shirtless and wearing board shorts, he leaned forward, placing his palms on the concrete ledge as he closed his pretty blue eyes, long brown hair falling into his face. He was grateful to be alone, for the moment, as his physical therapist was away for just a moment to take a phone call. 

Bucky's right shoulder was still severely injured as a result of Captain America desperately trying to save the world and, consequently, having to break The Winter Soldier's arm to try to subdue him during their epic battle on the helicarrier. Bucky wasn't mad at Steve for it, however. In fact, Bucky was extremely angry at himself - so much so that he refused to use his metallic arm at all. He reasoned that The Winter Soldier had done far too much irreversible damage; Bucky didn't want to have anything to do with that highly technological arm. 

Currently, Bucky was a mess. He was rehabilitating from chronic Ketamine abuse, from depression, and, though nobody except Cap would ever find out, from an attempted suicide. 

Lost in thought, Bucky barely heard a friendly dog approach him on his left. 'Beezer', a resident therapy dog at the rehabilitation clinic, panted wildly and happily searched for the soldier. Beezer was a blind dog, but she absolutely knew exactly where everything was at the clinic so long as a wayward box didn't deter her. The dog definitely bumped into things on a regular basis, but she had overcome her blindness and encouraged soldiers every day. 

Beezer found Bucky finally and began to affectionately nuzzle at the soldier's metallic bionic arm. She wagged her tail furiously, seemingly excited to have found Bucky, who, at times, would sneak her a bite or two of his dinner. How Beezer 'knew' that everyone was trying to get Bucky to use his prosthetic arm again was a mystery, but dogs just kind of knew things, in the end. 

"Oh, baby Beez..." Bucky sighed, assured that he was alone. He would only talk to the dog if nobody was watching. When other people *were* watching, he wouldn't pay much attention to the dog. Beezer did her absolute best to try, and try, to get Bucky to pet her with his metal hand. Instead of petting the dog, Bucky leaned down and kissed the top of Beezer's head. In turn, Beezer licked the soldier's face repeatedly. "I love you, girl," Bucky said honestly. "I do. You're a silly dog, you know that?" 

Beezer gave a little growl in response, as if she was talking back to the soldier. Distracted, Beezer gave Bucky one more kiss before trotting off to her next endeavor. It was almost lunchtime at the rehabilitation center and Beezer was more than likely looking to see if she could beg for a bite of salisbury steak. 

Strangely grinning for once, Bucky took his time standing up. It was difficult, given that he wouldn't use his metal arm at all and that it was really hard to use his normal arm, given the severity of his shoulder injury. Bucky had been scheduled to do his daily physical therapy in the pool and kind of wondered what was taking his therapist so long. Distracted, Bucky stood and turned, ready to walk back to the facility to check on his therapist, just in case. 

Most definitely, Bucky didn't expect to run into Deadpool. 

"Surprise, motherfucker!" Deadpool was suddenly there, in front of Bucky as he turned, and unapologetically shoved The Winter Soldier right into the deep end of the swimming pool. 

"Oh, FUCK!" Bucky cried out, finding himself in the brisk water all of a sudden. He flailed about, still absolutely and positively refusing to use that goddamn metal arm of his. Bucky began to tread water as best as he could, kicking his legs. 

Deadpool, wearing his characteristic red and black outfit, complete with his two obligatory katana blades, threw his masked head back and laughed cruelly. "Look at you, you little bitch!" he cried out, more than amused. "Oh, fuck! The look on your pretty face, though! Priceless! Fucking priceless! I wish I had a camera..." 

Panicked, Bucky came to the stark realization just how extremely heavy his metallic arm was. The Winter Soldier was not meant to swim, it seemed. As impossibly advanced as the technology of his arm was, it was still too fucking heavy and severely impeded the soldier from floating. In the water, it was definitely akin to having, say, a slab of concrete attached to his shoulder. Bucky's eyes filled with painful tears as he desperately tried to use his normal arm to help him stay afloat. 

Deadpool, on the other hand, remained utterly calm and carefully watched The Winter Soldier struggle in the deep water. He made absolutely no attempt to help Bucky and, instead, crossed his arms over his chest. "Hey, Buck," Deadpool stated clearly, his voice rather cruel. "Remember me?" 

"Fuckin' help me already!" Bucky cried out, titling his head far back to avoid swallowing chlorinated water. He still struggled and was rapidly becoming exhausted. 

Deadpool completely ignored the soldier's request. "I've really missed you, Buck," Wade began, carelessly leaning over momentarily to pluck a random weed-flower, twirling it between his gloved fingers. "It's not every day I meet such a very pretty 'bottom'. You like guys, right, Buck?" 

Though he was fighting for his life, Bucky was still frustratingly irritated that Deadpool repeatedly called him 'Buck', which really was a name he only let Steve Rogers call him. "Fuck you!" Bucky cried out to Deadpool, in response to his question of whether or not he preferred men sexually. 

Carelessly tossing the flower to the side, Deadpool shook his head. "Shame, shame, Buck. That's no way to talk to your elders. Oh, no wait..." Wade made himself laugh. "I forgot. You may look like you're 27 or so, but, really, you are *actually*, like, 97 years old or something, right? Oh, my god, I wonder if you can even get it up now? Am I right? Tell me you take Viagra, old man." 

It was impossible to not hear what Deadpool was saying even amidst his intense struggle to stay afloat in the deep end of the pool. Bucky's frustrated growls progressively grew weaker as the pain in his right shoulder intensified to the point where little sparks seemed to fly before his eyes. Though he didn't remotely realize it, Bucky began to faint from the excruciating pain of using his normal arm to save himself from drowning. 

"Oh, Jesus..." Deadpool did duly take note of how Bucky's eyes rolled back as the soldier began to pass out. The anti-hero rapidly kneeled on the concrete edge of the pool and reached as far as he could, successfully grabbing The Winter Soldier's normal wrist before yanking him hard to safety, but Deadpool didn't pull Bucky out of the water. Wade used his free hand to sharply slap Bucky's face over and over again until Bucky gasped and regained consciousness. 

Deadpool was strangely furious; he began to yell at Bucky. "What the *fuck* is the matter with you?!" he bellowed at the soldier. "Fuckin' use that goddamn metal arm of yours. Jesus Fucking Christ, stop being a martyr..." Deadpool waited a few more moments for Bucky to wake up more fully. "So you made some mistakes, alright? We all have. But, shit, you didn't know what you were doing, okay? Fuckin' be a man already!" 

Breathing hard, Bucky stared up at the masked figure with stars in his eyes. He shook his head a little in protest. Swallowing hard, he rasped in his Brooklyn accent, "Fuck you, man... You have no fuckin' clue what I've been through, alright?!" 

How odd it was for Deadpool to see red, but he did. Oh, yes, Wade Wilson had most definitely been through some shit in his life. More than his fair share. His pain was different than The Winter Soldier's, for sure, but he suffered no less. "You know what, you little faggot?!" Deadpool exclaimed, tightening his grip on Bucky's wrist. He paused, though, after he said that as he worked hard to think of an appropriate punishment for Bucky. A devilish and cruel idea suddenly dawned on Deadpool's mind. 

Deadpool delighted in explaining his proposition to Bucky. "I'm a gamblin' man, Buck. I always have been. I've got a little wager for you." Wade reached into a hip pocket with his other hand and produced a full vial of Ketamine. Okay, so maybe he *was* prepared to fuck with Bucky a bit. "You see this?" Deadpool showed the illicit drug to Bucky; Deadpool still tightly gripped Bucky's wrist, keeping him afloat. "I know how much you love Special K. So, let's make a deal, shall we? I personally think you're a little faggot and you love cock." 

"Shut your fucking mouth!" Bucky cried out. "I don't like guys, okay?! Motherfuckinchrist, I've had plenty of girlfriends..." 

Though Bucky couldn't see it, Deadpool grinned from ear to ear. Strangely, Wade didn't have the heart to remind Bucky how he had witnessed Steve and Bunny Bucky making out before Deadpool left Captain America's apartment. To Deadpool, it was all too amazingly fucking funny what a closet gay man Bucky was. "Mmhmm," Wade started. "Right, sure, Buck. Sure. I'll bet you this Special K, and perhaps your honor, that you can't get a hard on from chicks... Oh, sorry. I forgot. You're from the forties. 'Dames'," Deadpool added. "I'll bet you that you can't get it up even if a couple of dames play with you." 

Utterly confused, Bucky shook his head. "What?" he said distantly, completely uncertain of how Deadpool would even *begin* to be able to find that out. 

"Good night, Buck," Deadpool declared as he rapidly stood and, still holding onto Bucky's normal wrist, he severely stomped on Bucky's injured right shoulder with his boot. Still in the pool, Bucky cried out in pain and immediately blacked out from the insane level of pain. 

Suddenly, Bucky opened his eyes and found himself kneeling once again in that strikingly subdued red room in the back of The Cat Walk on Veterans Parkway in Columbus, Georgia. A soft sigh escaping his lips, Bucky blinked over and over again as his blurred vision slowly refocused. He realized that his wrists were somehow bound again. Bucky actually tried to move his metal arm, but was unsuccessful, and could distinctly feel the cold metal handcuff restraint on his wrist. 

"So?" Kat - one of the two very, very pretty cocktail waitresses in the room - began. "Did you ever decide who you like better, Buck? Me or Lizie?" Kat uttered a sweet little flirtatious laugh. 

Beyond confused, Bucky's mouth fell open as he looked up at Kat and Lizie, his starry gaze toggling between them. Both of Deadpool's henchwomen stared down at the soldier, in turn, matching mischievous grins on their strikingly beautiful faces. 

"Wh... What the hell is going on?" Bucky uttered rather breathlessly as his heart rate began to progressively speed up. The entire situation was utterly fucking impossible. Bucky seriously began to wonder if he was hallucinating from detoxing off of Ketamine.

"Shhh, Buck... You're okay, baby," Lizie cooed, running her hand over Bucky's long, thick hair again and again, doing her best to soothe the soldier. 

Bucky just took a moment to try to gain his bearings. He was kneeling, still restrained. Okay. He was wearing his dark blue jeans, heavy combat boots, and black tank top. The former assassin briefly noted that his trusty .45 was resting next to the lamp on the end table. Bucky couldn't help but moan softly at Lizie's intoxicating touch and slowly came to the realization that his hair was completely dry when, only moments before, he had been immersed in pool water. 

"Where is he?" Bucky said quietly, rapidly getting lost in the feel of Lizie's hand in his hair. "Where is Deadpool?" 

Lizie and Kat exchanged glances before Lizie answered comfortingly, "Don't you worry about that, sweet Bucky Bear... You just enjoy yourself, okay?" 

Feeling overwhelmed, Bucky let his head fall forward as he sat back on his legs. It was rather difficult to pinpoint, exactly, how he felt at that moment. Discouraged, mostly. Maybe kind of scared, but he wouldn't admit it to Lizie and Kat. 

"Hey, now," Lizie said, grasping a huge handful of Bucky's long hair and yanking his head back harshly. "I didn't say you could give up like that. Stop feeling so sorry for yourself. Stop it with this personal pity party, okay?" 

The sudden dangerous and dark look in Bucky's blue eyes made Lizie highly amused. After giving Kat a knowing smirk, Lizie said rather wickedly, "Oh, you want to play like that, Bucky Bear? You wanna play hardball?" 

Pain sometimes did weird things to The Winter Soldier's mind. Bucky gave a low, feral growl in response to Lizie's question as he tensed his muscles. He silently dared Lizie to strike him. 

Laughing through her nose at the growl, Lizie continued to fiercely grip Bucky's hair. "*I* think you like Kat more. I saw the way you kissed her," Lizie said to Bucky, glancing at her fellow cocktail waitress. "Do you want to kiss her again, little bear?" 

Bucky held his silence, but Lizie wasn't about to let the soldier get away with ignoring her question. When Lizie relentlessly pulled Bucky's hair as hard as she could, Bucky squeezed his eyes shut and gave an involuntary whimper through clenched teeth. 

"Answer me!" Lizie suddenly shouted. 

The Winter Soldier couldn't help but be in awe of this woman's incredible strength. "Yes!" Bucky finally cried out in response to Lizie's question. "Yes, I want to kiss her again, you fuckin' cunt!" 

Kat's pretty blue eyes noticeably widened in surprise, her lips forming a soundless shocked, 'Oh...' as Bucky dared to call Lizie a 'cunt'. Oh, shit. Bucky just fucked himself, she thought. 

Lizie threw her head back and laughed. "Oh, my god, Bucky. Oh, my god. You have no clue who you're dealing with, you know that?" Turning her attention to Kat, Lizie finally let go of Bucky's hair. "Okay, girl. You go ahead." 

Bucky stared Lizie down. The super soldier's body temperature was always abnormally hot - a side effect of Dr. Arnim Zola's serum - but, now, both Lizie and Kat could literally feel the heat radiating off of Bucky's body. 

Kat did her best to put her apprehension aside. She approached the soldier and ran her fingertips along his jaw before gently directing Bucky to look at her, instead. Catching Bucky's attention again, Kat gazed into his eyes and ran her hand slowly down the side of his neck, her thumb pressing against his throat. 

The Winter Soldier's temper flared. Admittedly extremely attracted to Kat, he desperately wanted to touch Kat, to hold her, to completely get his hands all over her, to feel everything about her. It was overwhelmingly fucking frustrating to have his hands tied behind his back. The soldier's mind furiously toggled between the notion that he enjoyed being restrained yet was simultaneously obsessed with touch and holding things in his hands. 

Bucky broke the stare between him and Kat and focused, instead, on Kat's cleavage. That blood red corset, though... Oh, god... His mind trailing off to dirty and inappropriate thoughts, Bucky moaned softly as he licked his bottom lip in anticipation.

Kat leaned down, giving Bucky a great view, before bringing her lips so fucking close to Bucky's mouth again and again. Her breath was warm, but, compared to Bucky's overheated body, Kat seemed almost cool in a way. Thinking he was going to be kissed - finally - Bucky closed his eyes, tilting his head back.

"Beg for it, Bucky," Lizie said darkly, standing next to the kneeling soldier. She began to run her hand along Bucky's shoulders. "I wanna hear you beg."

For being a highly-trained assassin, Bucky sure did cave rather quickly. All of those field exercises where he was trained to not give up information under torture went out the window along with his dignity. "Please..." Bucky begged pathetically.

"Please, what?" Lizie said, digging her nails into Bucky's thick muscular bicep.

"Please, Mistress, please kiss me," Bucky whined, his voice trembling.

Kat might have been ready, right then and there, to finally give Bucky what he desperately wanted, but Deadpool suddenly appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. Deadpool unapologetically pushed Kat aside - she uttered a little gasp of surprise - and reached down, grasping Bucky's crotch rather awkwardly.

Bucky gasped loudly as his eyes flew open.

"Ugh!! Jesus Christ, Buck!" Deadpool exclaimed, promptly releasing Bucky and standing straight again. "Holy motherfuckin' mother of god, you surprised me. I guess you're not *as* much of the flamin' faggot I made you out to be! Well, well, well... You *do* have a hard-on after all. I'll be a motherfuckin' monkey's uncle. Holy shit..."

His mouth falling open in shock, Bucky could only stare up at Deadpool's red and black mask, absolutely speechless.

"Ugh, *FUCK*!!!" Deadpool cried out, hands over the top of his head. "I *hate* being wrong. I hate losing bets... Shit... Motherfuck..."

Lizie and Kat exchanged glances, not entirely sure what to do. Kat gave a confused half-shrug.

"Ewww, though!" Deadpool shook his right hand suddenly. He managed to laugh, still. "I just realized I fuckin' grabbed your cock, though, Buck..." Smirking under his mask, Deadpool continued, "You sure do get around, man. Fuckin' bisexual. You make me sick, you know?!"

Shaking his head, Bucky was exceedingly embarrassed, and, really could kick himself. No, he wanted to beat himself with a tire iron. He had let his guard down. He really shouldn't have.

"Lizie..." Deadpool said. "Take care of him, would you? I fuckin' gotta go, like, take a shower or something... Ew... Touchin' another man's dick, though... Oh, my god..."

Lizie turned away for a moment before saying, "See you around, Bucky Bear... You come on back real soon, you hear?"

Bucky's eyes widened as Lizie forced a chemical-soaked strip of fabric over his mouth and nose. The chemical's smell was absolutely putrid, making Bucky feel as though he was suffocating to death, that he would never take another breath ever again. At that very moment, Bucky honestly wasn't sure how he felt about death.

"Relax, Buck," Kat said soothingly, holding the back of Bucky's head. "Just go to sleep..."

Hours later, Bucky had an incredibly difficult time coming to. It was all in his head, of course, but he felt as though he had to fight and claw his way back to consciousness. Eventually, he could hear the sound of thunder and heavy rain outside his bedroom window at the rehabilitation clinic. 'Beezer' slept peacefully next to the soldier, curled up beside him on the bed, her tail tucked up against her nose.

Nauseated, Bucky managed to open his eyes again, but found that he was too weak to sit up in his bed. Glancing to his left, Bucky's eyes focused on a vial of Ketamine and a fresh syringe on his nightstand. Moaning sadly, Bucky picked up the illicit drug vial with his metal hand and didn't hesitate to effortlessly crush it in his technological hand. His metal joints whirred and whined audibly, given that it had been so long since he had used his prosthetic arm. 

After Bucky passed out again, a long sigh escaping his lips, Deadpool stepped out of the shadowy corner of Bucky's darkened bedroom.

"That's right, motherfucker," Deadpool said quietly, knowing full well that Bucky had not seen him, nor could he hear him now. "You don't need that shit." After glancing over his shoulder and ensuring the coast was clear, Deadpool soundlessly approached Bucky's bedside. He adjusted Bucky's World War II dog tags, which were resting on the soldier's right shoulder, and brought them back to the center of Bucky's chest. Deadpool paused to scratch the therapy dog's head, though she barely moved a whisker, in turn.

Satisfied, Deadpool cleared his throat and left the rehabilitation clinic, making sure nobody witnessed his presence.


End file.
